


Imagination is Limitless

by Doceo_Percepto



Series: Ideas from the Kink Machine [1]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Bendy being a Little Shit, Bendy is his little cartoon self, Blood, Cutting, Henry deserves none of this, Henry suffers, Masturbation, Other, Self-Harm, but he's really creepy, tail kink sorta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-01-11 19:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18430781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto
Summary: When Henry Stein returns from the war, he meets the little cartoon demon he once animated. Trouble is, nobody else can see him, and nobody believes Henry that he exists.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to preface this with "THIS IS NOT MY FAULT I SWEAR!"
> 
> The ideas in this story, as well as those in other stories in this series, all come from the wonderfully twisted group of people in the Bendy and the Kink Machine Discord server. It's with their ideas and collaboration that this exists. Many many thanks. We are all sinners down here.

New York State Hospital. 

That was what the attendants and doctors called it, conveniently omitting the tell-tale “-of the Insane” which wasn’t considered appropriate. So New York State Hospital of the Insane, to be truly correct.

Ward B.

For those that needed special attention. Or, in other terms, the criminally insane.

Henry wasn’t supposed to be here. Of that he was absolutely sure.

For starters, he was not insane.

He was certainly not criminally insane, though he could understand why he was transferred to Ward B after the incidents in Ward C, with one attendant dead and two patients… well, _maimed_ is the term Henry had heard thrown around.

Henry hadn’t seen the extent of damage himself. The thought alone nauseated him. He’d never been a violent man. The opposite, actually - all his life people had thrown snide remarks about how passive and simple he was, so slow to anger that relatives wondered if he even possessed the emotion (he did, of course, but few things were worth getting angry about, and nothing was worth falling into a blind rage over). All he ever really wanted to do was draw. That had bothered his parents, and invoked the derision of his peers, but he could never _stop_ drawing. It was soothing, pleasant, to doodle little characters across his papers, and it absorbed his attention in ways nothing else could.

Before Bendy, before the hospital, when Henry was still naive enough to think he’d have a normal life, he found his place as a young animator at Joey Drew Studios.

Joey… was not the greatest employer, but Henry had heard stories of worse. Despite the lack of credit given to his work on the Bendy cartoons, and the endless unpaid overtime, Henry’s years at the studio were some of his favorite - purely because he could devote so much time to bringing his characters to life. For a time, everything was _good._

Then there was the war. And the draft. Henry didn’t like to talk about that time. There was no need to linger on it.

Three years later, he returned to America with the war won, and attempted to assume his old station at Joey Drew Studios, which had continued churning out episodes throughout all that time.  It was then… then that things began to go very wrong - when the first steps were taken that led Henry to being declared insane, and then criminally insane. Because when he stepped into the studio, he met Bendy.

It sounded absurd. Bendy was a cartoon character. Not a real creature. Henry _obviously_ knew this, and _obviously_ could tell the difference between what was real and what was not. He was even the man to invent Bendy’s design in the first place, despite what Joey would say about that topic. So of course he knew Bendy wasn’t real.

Nevertheless, the first week back in America, Henry went to speak with Joey (Henry had found that being home, without anything to do, it… it wasn’t good for him). And Bendy the dancing demon was standing right beside Joey’s desk, grinning as wide as he could.

“Great to see you, Henry,” Joey had said, “so, so great. The show has just taken off like you wouldn’t believe-”

“Hiya, Henry,” Bendy said, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes hovered somewhere between demure and sinister. He was so jarring, so unbelievable, that Henry didn’t know what to say. His own cartoon character, standing right there, nonchalant as could be!

Joey continued as if he had heard nothing, “but of course, it’s nothing without your help, Henry - you’re the spirit of the company!”

“I’ve been waitin’ a long time for ya,” Bendy continued, and then he was slinking closer, a long tail swishing at his heels. “Joey told me all about ya, how you’re my creator. He won’t tell anyone else the truth, will he? ‘Bout all the stories an’ characters he stole from ya.”

Joey made absolutely no remark about Bendy. “We’d love to have you back. I mean, you’ll have to accept a lower rate, after no employment for so long-”

“Don’t worry,” Bendy said. “I know the truth, creator.”

“But I’m sure we can get something worked out that will leave us both happy!”

Henry finally managed to open his mouth and utter, “Joey, what the hell is this thing!?” as he stumbled backwards because Bendy was now very, very close to him.

“I’m sorry, what?” Joey said.

“How did you-?” Henry started; “he looks so much like the cartoon-” and yet so eerily different in ways not conveyed by his physical appearance.

“Joey summoned me,” Bendy explained, “but he thinks it’s funny to pretend I don’t exist. You won’t do that, will ya, Henry?”

Joey looked concerned. “I’m sorry, Henry, I just don’t understand what you mean.”

“Bendy!” Henry yelped, gesturing. “This - this thing- how-?”

“Now that’s kinda rude, ain’t it?”

Joey adjusted his glasses and frowned. “Henry, are you okay? Do you need water? We don’t have coffee anymore, unfortunately, but-"

“C’mon, just hold still for a sec,” Bendy grabbed at Henry’s hands before he could yank them away, and then cold, unreal fingers were probing at Henry’s palm. “Wow! The hands that drew me so many years ago. It’s like meetin’ a celebrity.”

“Henry? Do you hear me? Maybe you should sit down-”

“You - you don’t see him?” Henry asked, paralyzed while the demon investigated his hands. “Joey, tell me you see this-”

Joey pursed his lips together. “Maybe you aren’t ready to work yet-”

“NO, no!” Henry yanked away from the cartoon character. “I need this job, Joey. I need something to do. The war-” he cut off, eyes sliding to the side, and towards Bendy’s predatory grin. “You really don’t see Bendy?” he asked hoarsely. “Standing right here?”

“Give up,” Bendy chortled. “He ain’t ever gonna admit that he can see me." 

“Henry,” Joey said, strained. “I - I would just love to have you back on the team, but… maybe drop the whole ‘seeing things that aren’t there,’ okay?”

Henry sucked in a breath, ready to continue the argument. Then he exhaled. “Yes. Sorry.”

Joey’s sort of response to Bendy marked the remainder of Henry’s second - and very, very brief - employment at Joey Drew Studios, because nobody else could or would acknowledge the cartoon demon brought to life. It was Bendy that made Henry’s employment so brief, and Bendy that made sure Henry ended up in the asylum. Of that Henry was sure.

Once Henry started work, the cartoon character (which absolutely could not exist) elected to follow Henry _everywhere_. “You’re waaay more interesting than ol’ Joey,” Bendy told him cheerily as explanation, “plus, I feel a real bond with ya, Henry. Like we’re family, yanno?” But no matter where Henry went, nobody else could see the demon. Or they refused to acknowledge him. Henry didn’t know which option was crazier, and he couldn’t figure out the truth.

On his first day back, when Henry hunched over his desk, Bendy was there, smiling away. “Wow, I’m gonna get to see the real magic happen. I bet you’re better’n all these other guys, eh? I heard they had t’hire a whole bunch’a people to replace you!”

That did seem true. Since the last time Henry was here, new desks had been added, and new animators. They all inhabited one big room, and were here with Henry, laboring over backlit sketches. Not one made note of Bendy.

Henry turned back to his desk. “Can they see you?” He whispered, quiet enough that he hoped the others couldn't hear him.

“Sure can,” Bendy replied. “But they’re like Joey. Boring as heck. They won’t pay attention to me.”

Henry didn’t know what to believe. How could Bendy exist like this, and yet not a single person paid attention to him? What even _was_ Bendy? How had he come to be? Why was he only interacting with Henry? It made no sense to Henry, and he felt like he was in some dream-like fugue, where nothing was real. Pens scratched away at neighboring desks. Nobody wanted to break for long, not with Joey as their boss. Only Henry sat, not working.

“Well?” Bendy prompted. He slid a piece of paper across the desk. “Draw me.” His tail brushed Henry’s ankle; Henry flinched away. “Just like y’used to.”

“How are you alive?” Henry whispered.

“Wow, what a question to ask. Rude, Henry.”

“You said Joey summoned you?”

Bendy gave a sly smile. “Sure did. And now you an’ I get to be together. I’m yours.”

Was nobody else creeped out by that? Henry cast looks at his fellow animators; none of them were responding.

“”I don’t want that,” Henry said slowly. All he wanted was to back to doing what he’d always loved doing - drawing. He didn’t want living cartoon characters following him around.

Someone then looked up from their desk, and shot Henry a concerned look.

“Too bad.” Bendy handed him a pencil. “Draw me, creator.”

Throughout the next several days, Henry grew only more confused and distressed. Nobody acknowledged the demon. Bendy insisted they could see him, but whenever Henry spoke to Bendy, people gave Henry odd looks or asked him who he was speaking to. If this was kind of game they were all playing on him, Henry didn’t want to play anymore. He felt isolated, strange; excluded from the work environment and his fellow peers in a way he had never been before. He feared that in a short period of time, he had acquired a reputation for being weird… for being crazy, if he dared to think it. His coworkers gave him a wide berth in the hallways, and ignored him at lunch. Some of them whispered when he passed.

It made Henry feel unwelcome in a place that had once felt like his home.

“Why do you follow me?” Henry asked Bendy once. “You don’t do that to anyone else.”

“They don’t pay attention t’me,” Bendy replied easily. “Why would I follow ‘em?”

Feeling vindictive, Henry decided to mimic his coworker’s actions. _Pretend_ the devil didn’t exist. Join in whatever game these people were playing.

“Henry,” Bendy uttered when they were back at his desk, drawing away with all the others. “Henry. Henry. Henry. Why are you ignoring me? Henry. Henry. HenryHenryhenryhenryhenry-”

He had to tire himself out eventually, Henry thought. He had to get bored and go bother someone else. Henry was shocked, frankly, that none of the other animators seemed to care about Bendy’s steadily rising pitch. (He didn’t want to consider that the animators couldn’t see Bendy at all, because he didn’t know how to process that information, or what that would mean about himself.)

“Heeeenryyyyyyy-” Bendy sprawled over the top of his desk like a cat, ink melting off his body and streaking over Henry’s work.

Henry gritted his teeth and scooted his paper to the very far side of the desk, which screwed up the alignment of his work but at this rate he just wanted Bendy to go away.

“Pay attention to meeee,” Bendy moaned. His large gloved hand stretched out and slapped down right over Henry’s sheet.

Henry yanked the sheet out from under his hand and slapped it down on the other side of the desk, hunching over his work as if to block it from Bendy’s interference. He had a fraction of a moment to believe this had actually worked before the little spade tip of Bendy’s tail wriggled into his field of view.

“Bendy,” Henry growled warningly.

The demon giggled. His tail inched mischievously nearer to Henry’s drawing. Nearer, nearer. Henry scooted away. Further. Further. He reached the edge of his desk, and then he was trying to draw on a paper that was only half on the desk, while Bendy’s tail still encroached. 

“Stop it,” Henry hissed.

Another giggle. Then _whap_ the end of his tail slapped over Henry’s paper, spattering it entirely with ink.

With a cry, Henry jerked away from the spatter, which nonetheless got all over his face and shirt. And now everyone, _everyone_ in the room was staring.

Henry gasped, gesturing. “It was Bendy, I didn’t- he’s preventing me from working-” 

“Bendy?” The look the others were giving him made him feel sick inside. Like he was part of a different species.

“Yes, him-” Henry waved at the top of his desk, where Bendy was reclining, smiling.

“Hey, you know Bendy’s a cartoon character, right?” one guy laughed. “You know he’s not real?”

“Yeah,” Henry said through numb lips. “Yeah, of course.”

Later, Henry whispered to Bendy, “you lied. They can’t see you.”

“Aw, you got me,” Bendy said, “it was funny while it lasted. But hey, the important thing is you’re not ignoring me anymore!” 

So nobody else could see Bendy. Just Henry. That meant nothing good, as far as Henry was concerned. It was during this time that Henry most suspected that he was insane. That something had snapped. It wasn’t _normal_ to be imagining things that weren’t really there. But on the other hand, if for some reason his brain had decided to conjure this… admittedly very weird hallucination… then surely Henry could get a handle on it. He could overpower the hallucination by his own will. Henry very much did not _want_ Bendy around; he just wanted to go back to drawing cartoons as he always had, and living a simple life.

Henry decided he just needed to try harder to not acknowledge Bendy’s presence. If Henry ignored it, sooner or later, it would have to go away, right?

That’s when Henry learned Bendy had a sadistic streak.

“Hi,” Bendy said while Henry sat studiously at his desk. “Hi Henry. Hi. Hello. Heya. Hiya. Hello. Ello-hay. Hi. Hi. Hi.”

Henry forcefully ignored him. The animator was already planning alternate ways to approach the situation in case Bendy ended up getting physically in the way of his art. Despite his growing headache, Henry felt confident he could handle this.

“Hi. Hello. Hello. Hello-”

Just draw. Like he always had.

“Pay attention to me.”

Line after line.

“Henry, c’mon.”

Steady and sure.

“You’re no fun like this.”

Henry refrained from smirking. It was about time the little demon got some comeuppance. Maybe now Henry would get some peace.

“All right, fine,” Bendy grumped. “Play hard t’get.”

Good.

“But ya can’t ignore me forever, Henry.” Thick fingers clenched down on Henry’s thigh, higher up than was strictly comfortable. The cold of his ink seeped through the cloth. The gesture was small, simple, but undeniably frightening for reasons Henry couldn’t quite articulate. Aside from examining his hands in Joey’s office, Bendy hadn’t touched Henry at all. Him doing it now made him more real, more present. Much, much harder to ignore.

“I’ll start missin’ the sound of your voice,” Bendy sighed. “An’ the silly looks of frustration or fear. Yeah, don’t think those’ve got without notice, Henry! I see the way ya look at me. Like ya think I’m gonna do somethin’ awful t’ya.” His other hand came down beside the first as he leaned partly on Henry, peering up with glittering black eyes.

Henry’s mind warred. This couldn’t be real. Because nobody else could see or hear Bendy. But the cold on his upper thigh was so tangible, there was no mistaking it. Even the slight weight of the demon pushing down on him. Even chilly breath over his arm as Bendy leaned nearer.

_Not happening not happening not happening_

It was in his head. Somehow. Had to be. If he just ignored-

“It’s funny ya believe so badly of me, creator. I ain’t ever done anythin’ bad. I’m just as happy-go-lucky as that guy right there!” Bendy pointed at Henry’s paper, and the demon captured mid-bounce on it. “Could almost say we’re the same!” He laughed at his joke.

Ignore him.

Ignore him.

Ignore -

“Don’t make me hurt you,” Bendy said.

Oh God.

 _It’s all in your head,_ Henry told himself _._

**_But why would I hallucinate this in the first place? He’s not even like the actual Bendy. Why is this happening? I just want to work._ **

_Doesn’t matter why or how. Just ignore him. He can’t hurt you._

Bendy made a soft, sympathetic noise. “Y’make me do this, creator.” His tail wound around Henry’s forearm, the soft meaty bit exposed with his sleeves half scrunched at his elbows.

Henry’s hand stilled over his sketch. He couldn’t help his eyes flitting to the side, because what was Bendy _doing-_

The spade tip of his tail glistened. In the right light, the edges looked sharp as a razor.  

“I don’t wanna hurt you but-” then Bendy huffed a quiet laugh. “Nah, I can’t even lie, Henry.” He met Henry’s gaze. “I really wanna hurt ya.” The sharp black tip dragged deep across Henry’s forearm. The animator’s teeth dug hard into his lip to restrain the cry that wanted to emerge. His exhale was a hiss; his eyes squinted open and he felt nauseous immediately.

His skin was parted, a deep red-black furrow between the edges now slick and oozing. Bendy had - had _cut_ him.

_I didn’t think he could hurt me-_

**_It can’t be real. I’m imagining it._ **

_It stings._ And it was bleeding profusely. Little trails were slithering down his arm, plink plinking onto the floor.

_I can’t be hallucinating all of this-?_

“Wow,” Bendy cooed. “It’s such a pretty color, Henry.” He cupped Henry’s forearm with an unfitting tenderness. Henry had a fraction of a second to realize the demon was about to _lick his blood_ before Henry was scrambling out of his desk. His chair crashed against the ground; the other animators looked up.

“Holy shit,” one man said. 

“What happened-” said another.

“Did he do that to himself?” someone muttered.

“Are you okay?” someone rose from their desk as if to provide assistance, but Henry was already bolting from the room.

“Fine, bathroom!” he yelled as he ran, while Bendy laughed and skipped after him.

He slammed the stall door, snatching toilet paper and piling it onto the wound. Even here, however, he wasn’t free from Bendy.

The demon leaned against the inside of the stall door, arms crossed. “You’re wastin’ all that blood,” he complained, “why don’t’cha let me clean it up for ya?”

The other animators had seen the wound, too. Henry’s mind whirred while he tried to stifle the blood flow, calm his frantic heartbeat, and aggressively ignore Bendy. If they could see the wound - then whether they could see Bendy or not, maybe they could see the consequences of his actions? (Maybe he is real).

Henry tried to wrap his mind around the still feasible option that Bendy wasn’t real, that he was just a hallucination or some manifestation of trauma Henry didn’t want to face. But how could that be true when the evidence of something he had done to Henry was right there in front of Henry’s face?

“C’mon, please?” Bendy purred. “Just a lick.”

He - He needed better first aid. There was the infirmary, but he didn’t want to have to answer awkward questions about what had happened…

Bendy stepped nearer, eyes intent. “I really wanna taste your blood, Henry.”

Okay, that was it. Henry slunk as speedily as he could around Bendy without touching the creature, and then he bolted for the infirmary.

“Accident with the paper-cutter,” Henry bit out as an excuse. Bendy hung in the doorway, looking sulky but thankfully leaving Henry alone while his wound was taken care of.

“Y’don’t have t’be such a prude,” Bendy grumbled as Henry trudged back to his desk, arm throbbing in pain but safely wrapped in a bandage.

Henry tried to feel victorious that he’d managed to ignore Bendy throughout that whole period, not saying a single word to the demon. But it was very very hard to feel good when he was left wounded, with Bendy _still_ following him and persisting in talking to him. 

Henry had a horrible feeling things were only going to get so much worse.


	2. Chapter 2

On Henry’s first day at the asylum, he sat on a thin mattress and stared mutely at the bars caging his windows. He struggled to reconcile all his life before this to now. 

He couldn’t do it. 

He’d had a normal life, not always the happiest, but neither was it abusive or awful. He’d had everything set up to - well, not _excel_ , but to _succeed_. That was all he had ever asked for. This place, this room - he didn’t belong here. Until very recently, the asylum was background noise. Something that existed in the city, and he knew about it, but it was so far removed from his existence that he barely acknowledged it at all. Like news about starving people in other countries. It never had to do with him. 

Henry was a stranger here. He wanted to scream to some higher power that a mistake had been made. He was a _normal_ man, not one of those - those _people_ you hear about, from a friend of a friend of a friend. Nothing _against_ them, of course, he always figured those people couldn't help it, not truly. But Henry _wasn’t one of them._ He wasn’t crazy.

“Boy, you really got yourself into a pickle this time,” Bendy said. The demon was inspecting the far wall, which was slimed with mold. His tail twitched at his booted feet. “Ain’t really kingly digs here, Henry.” 

Henry put his face in his hands. If it weren’t for Bendy - he _wouldn't_ be here. 

“You ruined everything,” Henry muttered into his palms. 

As always, Bendy seemed to hear him no matter how muffled his words were. “Me?” Bendy exclaimed, then laughed. “ _Me_? C’mon, Hen, this is all on you! You were the one reactin’ to what I do!"

“You didn’t give me a choice!” It was one of the first times Henry had ever raised his voice. It left him feeling shaken. He groaned and rubbed his temples. “I don’t belong here, Bendy. I should be back in the studio.”

“Yeah,” Bendy said thoughtfully. “You’re an animator, Henry, ya ought’a be animatin.’ Think they can bring ya a pencil an’ some paper?”

“That’s not the point,” Henry ground out. “I should be out - out there, in the real world-“ he waved a hand vaguely then, tired, dropped it. “I should be bringing in a steady paycheck, finding a girlfriend, settling down…” The things that normal people in society did. All he wanted was to be _normal_. 

“Aw,” Bendy crooned. “Y’don’t haft’a bring in money to be useful to me, Henry.” Something about what Henry had said drew Bendy nearer, until the demon was standing right at his knee. In a lower voice, Bendy added, “Anyway, I can fulfill any _needs_ ya got, Henry. You know that.”

“ _Don’t touch me_.”

“You’ve never been able to stop me.”

Henry felt sick when Bendy’s gloved hands kneaded his thigh, but he knew the demon was right. 

 

* * *

 

“Yer a big’ol tease,” Bendy said. 

Henry’s arm throbbed. The nurse advised he get stitches, but Henry had refused. He could do this. He could work, animate, just like everyone else. 

“Wearin’ a bandage t’cover up what I did to ya,” Bendy grumped. “And I’m tellin’ ya, Henry, ya should’ve just let me lick it!”

Henry couldn't feel comfortable around the demon. But he also couldn't have Joey fire him. He _wanted_ to work, damnit. If he wasn’t an animator, he didn’t know what he was, or what he’d do. If he wasn’t busy, then he might for a moment think about the war-

In the corner of his vision, the black shape that was Bendy moved. Instantly Henry’s eyes darted to the side, tracking the motion. His pen stilled on the page. 

_What are you doing. Just leave me alone._

“Yer just a wet rag,” Bendy said. “Don’t know how t’have fun.” He grabbed a pencil from Henry’s desk. _Crack_ , he snapped it in half. 

Henry winced at the sharp noise. Others lifted their heads to see. Soft murmurs. They returned to work. 

Another pencil. _Crack._

“Stop,” Henry whispered. It was hard to assume a tone that would reach Bendy, but wouldn't reach the animators working feet away from him. 

Bendy smiled. “Are ya talkin’ to me now, Henry?”

Henry chewed his lip. He didn’t want to give the demon attention. But he also didn’t want a collection of broken pencils. (Beyond that, he’d already discovered that Bendy’s attempts to get attention could turn violent…) Henry said nothing.

Bendy reached for another pencil. 

“Yes, I’ll talk to you,” Henry hissed under his breath. “Just - let me work.”

He despised the wicked pleasure in Bendy’s expression. “Okey-dokey,” the demon replied. “I’ll letch’a do the important business.” With a flick of his tail, he was gone. 

Henry slumped against his desk, relieved and shocked it had been so easy. The rest of the day he worked in peace. No demonic interruptions. No more snapped pencils. He managed to get more frames completed than were expected of him. Even better, he had a chat with a younger animator, Mark, during lunch, and for a fraction of the day he felt normal again. When he left the studio that evening, things seemed to be looking up for the first time in far too long.

It was a short-lived victory.

Henry returned to work the next day to find his desk completely trashed. Pencils snapped, papers torn, ink stains everywhere. 

Bendy stood beside the desk, hands folded neatly behind his back.

“Hiya, Henry,” he said. “D’ya like _my_ work? I spent all night doin’ it.” He laughed. “All right, it only took a couple minutes, an’ then I slept on your desk the rest’a the time. Boy, it does not take long to destroy what someone spent hours to create!”

All his effort from yesterday, ruined. Everything. He’d have to start over again.

“What, ain’t ya gonna say something?”

Throughout all his life, Henry had struggled with emotional expression. Passive, quiet - that was how he was, no matter his emotional state. So despite his frustration, his helpless rage, Henry simply stared in dismay at the damage. “This cost me all my work yesterday,” he said quietly, as if trying to believe it himself.

“Sure did!”

“I… will need to redo everything before giving an update to Joey….”

“Oh, probably,” Bendy affirmed, “unless ya wanna tell him he paid ya for the whole day an’ ya didn’t do a dang thing.”

“Why would you do this?” Henry said, hushed with his helplessness.

Bendy glanced back to the desk. “Oh, I dunno. It seemed fun at the time-“

“ _Fun_?” Henry said hoarsely. His tongue struggled to find words, when someone behind him spoke:

“Talking to yourself?”

Henry reeled around. 

It was Mark - young, blonde, a tad overweight. 

“N-no, I-“ But Henry couldn't explain who he was talking to.

Mark’s brows were furrowed in something that could be concern or something that could be “you’re a freak and I’m scared if I stand next to you long enough I’ll catch it.” In that moment, Henry discovered he despised both those sentiments.

“I - I wasn’t - wasn’t talking to myself, just-“

“Sure ya weren’t,” Bendy piped up. “You were just talkin’ to the cartoon demon nobody else can see!" 

Henry had the sense not to retort, but it didn’t matter much when Mark glimpsed Henry’s desk. 

“The hell did you do to your stuff?” 

“I didn’t! I - I mean… I- uh-“ Henry futilely wished he could chop off his own tongue. 

Bendy laughed.

“Oookay. Uh. Great. Well, I’m just gonna-“ Mark pursed his lips together and skirted around Henry to get to his own desk, where he settled down and repeatedly shot Henry _looks_. _You’re different_ looks. _You scare me_ looks. _You’re insane_ looks.

“Do you like my work?” Bendy repeated. 

Henry exhaled. Resigned, he began setting things back in their places. With luck, he could get everything organized before the others began coming in… and then he’d have to stay overtime to get today’s work done in addition to redoing yesterday’s work… 

“Aw, c’mon. You’re not still ignorin’ me, are ya, Henry?”

Henry’s arm stung as if on cue with Bendy’s words. “No,” Henry replied softly. “I just have nothing to say to you.”

“You’re cold,” Bendy whistled. “Cold as ice.”

“I have to redo everything now,” Henry replied, eyes darting to make sure Mark couldn't hear. The animator didn’t seem to be paying attention to him.

“You’re just not appreciatin’ my creative spirit,” Bendy said. “The real criminal is you, Henry.”

Henry didn’t deign that with a reply. 

“Aw, c’mon. Communication is the key to a good relationship! Can’t just have me leadin’ every convo.”

“I have nothing else to say.”

“Don’t do that to me,” Bendy whined. “I gave ya space aaall day yesterday, creator. Now you can pay attention to me, right?”

“I’m here to work.”

“Work on me.” The tone he used disturbed Henry. It had implications Henry’s brain refused to consider. He had to have heard wrong.

“If I don’t get this done-“ Henry became aware of the fact Mark, two desks away, was now side-eying Henry. Other animators were also filtering in, making secrecy even more crucial. He didn’t want them _more_ convinced he was some lunatic or social pariah. 

Henry continued softly, barely moving his lips, “Joey will fire me. And then I won’t be able to give you _any_ attention.” 

“Oh, I dunno,” Bendy shrugged, “Maybe I’d just follow ya out of the studio. Onto bigger ’n better places!”

Henry hadn’t considered that. For some reason, he’d assumed Bendy couldn't leave the studio. 

“ _But_ -“ Bendy added, lifting a finger up and winking, “I really feel for your cause, creator. So for now, you just keep right on workin,’ and I’ll take care’a myself.”

“Great.” Just what Henry wanted. 

“Pretend like I ain’t here.”

“Will do.”

Everything seemed like it would be fine, until Bendy’s fingers neared Henry’s pants zipper.

Henry jolted. “ _What are you doing?”_

Bendy paused, mid-reach. He tilted his head to the side. “Ain’t it obvious?”

_No no no Bendy would never know about those things -_

Henry had to be arriving at wrong, messed up conclusions. This was absurd, ridiculous. His own _cartoon_ couldn't be coming onto him in the workplace. 

_Your own cartoon couldn't be in the real world at all—_

But that didn’t stop the devil, and he had certainly already proved he was nothing like his drawn counterpart. 

“No,” Henry hissed. 

“Such a prude,” Bendy sighed. “Well, ya make a guy haft’a make due, Henry.”

Next thing Henry knew, Bendy was trying to wriggle his way under Henry’s arm and into his lap, inky white fingers groping at his clothes and his little booted feet kicking. “Scuze me, pardon, scuze-“

No - 

Henry couldn’t help sharply shoving the demon, and it turned into a bizarre wrestling match where Bendy wanted to sit on Henry’s lap and Henry very much did _not_ want him to. 

A few seconds of this, with Bendy grunting protests and whines, lashing his tail unhappily, before Henry became aware of his co-workers staring at him. 

_Shit._

But it wasn’t his fault-

And Bendy _was_ real. No hallucination, Henry was sure, could feel or sound so real. How was he supposed to ignore this?

“Get off,” Henry tried to hiss under his breath, one hand prying Bendy’s fingers off his leg, and one hand grabbing Bendy’s horn. 

Bendy, whose face had begun to leak ink from the whole ordeal, peered up under Henry’s hand. “I won’t even bug ya, Henry, I just wanna be close-"

“All right there?” One coworker called out. Everyone was exchanging looks. Judging. 

“Fine,” Henry snapped. He released Bendy, grabbed his pen, and hunched over his work again. “Just great.”

Bendy yipped and crawled into Henry’s lap. His weight was surprisingly heavy given his tiny form; Henry tried and failed to cover up his wince. 

“Really,” he growled to the others. “Just go back to work.”

He tried to do the same, hoping that now Bendy would just settle in his lap.

Henry was not so lucky. Almost immediately, two chilly hands pressed to his chest. The cold bled through the fabric. There was no heart or blood in him. Just cold, cold ink. And now he was touching - caressing - Henry’s chest. 

Draw. Just draw. 

_Ignoring him doesn’t work: you tried that last night and see where that got you-_

But what was he supposed to do? Get up and leave so that Bendy could harass him away from everyone else? Hope that that would make Bendy stop whenever Henry did return to work? And Henry _needed_ to work, goddamnit.

Henry did his best to focus while freezing fingers roamed all over his chest. He shivered when those fingers descended to his belly. 

_If he goes any lower I swear to God -_

It was a small blessing that he didn’t. Instead he began nuzzling his head against Henry’s chest, which may have been endearing with say, a small cat or dog. But Bendy was a demon that seemed bent on tormenting Henry. It was cute rather than creepy, and then it was also _gross_ when he ended up staining Henry’s shirt black with ink in several places. 

Henry sighed, hand moving almost subconsciously over the paper. Not his best work. But something was better than nothing… 

Bendy’s tail wagged, striking the inside of Henry’s legs repeatedly. He was still clutching tight to Henry and rubbing his head harder on him, as if the weird little demon was bent upon burrowing into Henry’s chest cavity. 

Then he stopped, pressed tight against Henry. He seemed to have settled in a cozy spot, like an animal digging out a nest for itself.

Henry was stupid to ever think he’d catch a break, and he was learning that fast. A few moments later, a strange inkling rang in the back of his head. 

_What’s the demon doing?_

**_Sleeping?_**

_No he’s doing something…_  

It was hard to say what, at first, if only because Henry’s mind refused to connect the pieces. Firstly, there was his soft breaths, which had gotten quicker, like panting. Then there was his hand, wedged between Henry’s crotch and his own, which Henry realized was moving in a consistent, but very small and subtle, motion.

_Oh god no_

**He can’t be doing that**

_No, he is. He’s -_

**On top of you**

_Sitting on me and_

**He seems to really like it**

Henry nearly gagged. It didn’t make sense. Bendy didn’t _have_ anything between his legs, what could he possibly be rubbing? Just smooth ink, like the rest of him? Was that pleasurable? 

**What do you think, idiot? Listen.**

_I don’t_ want _to-_

But his ears caught the soft moan that Bendy emitted. The little creature in his lap shifted. He needily pressed himself closer. “Creator,” he uttered raggedly, so soft that Henry could have missed it if he wasn’t paying attention. 

_He’s masturbating on me. Oh my god that is exactly what he’s doing._

Henry’s hand was now frozen on his desk, his fingers clenched so tightly around his pencil that they were ash-white. Bendy began to tremble, his breathing becoming more ragged. 

_Jesus Christ somebody has got to notice this._

**Do something! Shove him off!**

Yes. That - that was a good idea. Only Henry was paralyzed with shock. His eyes shifted in their sockets to take in his coworkers. They were all bowed over their desks. Nobody looking this way. Nobody seeing what this demon was doing on Henry right at this moment.

_I…_

Bendy clenched his teeth hard in Henry’s shirt. The tremors in his tiny body reached a peak, and he gasped sharply. His tail flagged, once, twice, three times, and with each movement his body clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed, until finally he melted against Henry, panting. His expression was lax and blissful. 

**SHOVE HIM OFF**

Belatedly, the wires connecting Henry’s mind to his body finally sparked back to life. In one swift motion, he simultaneously jerked away from his desk and shoved Bendy hard to the floor. 

The demon landed with a yelp; all the other animators chose _now_ to look over to Henry. But of course they weren’t looking at the demon. They were looking at _him_ , for doing such a sharp and violent movement out of the blue.

“Sorry,” Henry coughed. “Um, there was a bug.”

Bendy pulled himself up from the floor, eyes lidded, and a lazy smile on his face. He giggled. “Gee. Didn’t think you thought so horrible ‘a me.”

Henry wanted to make some sharp retort, but he couldn't with all the eyes watching him. Instead he gritted his teeth and returned his attention to his desk. 

Bendy’s giggles burst out into full blown laughter. It took the monster a minute or so to get it out of his system, and then he patted Henry’s thigh (Henry flinched with every pat).

 “You’re a good sport, creator. We’re gonna be together for a long, long time.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m concerned, Henry,” Joey smiled, because he almost always was smiling unless he was in a fit of blind rage. His hands were folded neatly over his desk. He was the picture of collected, apart from the twitch in his left eye.

Thomas would swear up and down to anyone that the chairs in front of Joey’s desk were slightly shorter than the chairs anywhere else in the studio, just to make you feel cowed. Henry wouldn't put it past Joey. 

Then of course, there was the man himself. Joey took extra cares to make himself look absolutely flawless. A clean well-pressed suit, his hair neatly combed, facial hair shaved to perfection. All these things couldn't quite offset the bags under his eyes, nor the wild look in his irises, as if he was always on the very verge of panic. There was a twitch in his left eye. This Joey was the Joey Henry liked the least. It was the only Joey he’d seen since returning from the war.

Joey blinked and his smile drew tighter, like he was waiting. “I’m concerned,” he said again, pointedly.

Heart pounding, Henry bit the bait, “Why are you concerned?” and waited for the pendulum to fall. 

Joey was ready. “I’m concerned, Henry, because you have been here no less than two weeks and yet you have almost _nothing_ to show for it. A day or so of work, and that’s all! I would like to be sympathetic, Henry; I would _love_ to take your side. But I’m having difficulty understanding why my once best employee is now my absolute worst.”

Shame boiled through Henry. There was no doubt _why_ his productivity was so low - since day one, Bendy hadn’t given Henry a damn break, and his antics were frustrating, scary, and extremely uncomfortable. It prevented Henry from doing a fraction of the work he was capable of. But he couldn't exactly describe that to Joey… 

“I’m sorry I- I’ll do better.”

“Of course. Of course. But Henry, if you were _capable_ of _doing better,_ why would you not have done so before? It’s a purely rational question, you understand.”

Henry stuttered. Sweat trickled down his neck. He needed this job. He needed to animate. “I’m sorry,” he uttered again helplessly. 

“As am I.” Joey sat back in his chair. “Henry, as a man in my position, I hear things here and there. Rumors, if you will. I have heard some strange things about you.”

Humiliated, Henry could barely meet his eyes. The animator could guess the sort of things people have been saying about him. As if directly on cue, the office door behind Henry opened and closed. Distracted, Henry looked over his shoulder. 

_Bendy_. 

The demon waved. 

“I have heard,” Joey ground out to get Henry’s attention, “that you have been behaving oddly.”

Henry did his best to focus on Joey’s words, but in the corner of his vision, Bendy wandered to Joey’s fake monstera plant and began to prod it. “Don’t mind me,” Bendy said. “Keep on with your meeting, Henry, it’s probably important.”

“Destroying your supplies- or, truly, the _company’s_ supplies - those aren’t cheap, Henry, you know I will need to take that from your pay. And strange, random outbursts. Henry, they say you talk to Bendy.”

Henry went cold. “I know Bendy isn’t real.”

“Jeez, Henry, way to let a guy down hard!” Bendy was now rocking the potted plant. Back and forth, back and forth. He was going to knock it over. Henry should stop him, but - Joey was watching.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” Joey said. “My favorite animator, of all people! I really didn’t want to believe you were one of those… sorts of people, Henry.”

“I’m not,” Henry said quickly, jerking his attention back to Joey. “I’m not - not insane. Joey, you know me.”

“I knew you.” 

That stung more than Henry was willing to admit. 

Joey arranged the papers on his desk, cleared his throat. “I was generous enough to allow you back, because of your previous contributions to this company and our dear friendship.”

Back, forth, back, forth. The base of the pot precariously tilted on its edge. Like a pin on its head ready to drop.

“Because of those things, Henry, I’m willing to give you an opportunity I would not give any other worker here. Whatever is going on in your head - well, I am going to give you another chance to sort it out. You understand me? No more of this business and we can pretend it never happened.”

Joey leveled his gaze at Henry, and Henry struggled to keep the eye contact without looking over at Bendy. “Yes,” Henry said quickly. “Yes-“

“One week,” Joey said. “If you do not produce sufficient work, and do not demonstrate suitable behavior within one week, you are-“

_Crash!_

The pot overbalanced and shattered. Soil sprayed everywhere and the plastic leaves smashed.

Joey leapt from his desk swearing, while Bendy danced away. 

“Blasted thing- Wally - Wally!” Joey threw a vicious look at Henry. “You hear me? One week to improve, or you're _gone_.” With that, Joey flew out the door in search of the janitor. 

Henry slumped, covering his face with his hands. 

“Arent’cha gonna thank me?” Bendy trotted into view. “I cut yer borin’ ol’ meeting with Joey short.”

“Because of you, I might get fired,” Henry said, feeling sick to his stomach. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s your fault.”

Something in Henry’s unamused glare must have made it through to the demon, because he continued, “See, I wouldn't destroy things and interrupt yer work if you didn’t ignore me.”

“I’ve been talking to you, just like you asked. What more can you possibly want?”

“Y’only talk to me when you’re alone, which is almost never.”

“Because there are people around, and if they hear me-“

Joey and Wally came rushing back into the room and Henry bit his tongue. 

“Just fell right over, you see-“ Joey was saying, gesturing enthusiastically. “Henry, what are you still doing in here?”

Henry mumbled an apology and ducked out of the office while Bendy trotted at his heels.

“Because,” Henry continued in a lower voice as he progressed down the hall, “if people see me talking to you, they will think I’m crazy.”

“You _are_ crazy.”

“I’m not-“ Henry huffed through his nostrils. 

“All right, all right, whatever helps ya sleep at night. Look, they already believe you’re crazy anyway, so why does it matter?”

“Well, I don’t want to make it w- _hi_!” Henry forced a smile and a wave at Susie, who had just turned the corner. 

Susie regarded him, head-to-toe, with a disdainful expression. Without a word, she tossed her hair and brushed past him. 

“See?” Henry hissed. 

Bendy shrugged. “I dunno, Suz is kinda a bitch anyway.”

“ _Bendy_ -“ 

“I’m just sayin’ it like it is.”

Henry decided to pick and choose his battle. “That’s not the point. You have to let me work!”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I don’t know!” Henry was about to rip out his hair in frustration. He shouldn't have to bargain with a demon just to get some damn work done. 

“It’ll tell ya what’s in it for me.” Bendy crossed his arms behind his back, his smile dark. “Yer gonna open your veins for me, an’ let me lick it, and I’ll give ya all o' next week to make the best ‘a impressions for ol’ Joey Drew.”

Henry stared. Open his veins. Jesus Christ what was wrong with this thing. “No,” he replied instantly. “No”

“Welp, ain’t no skin off my nose. Don’t even got a nose. Hope ya like another week of misery then!”

“Wait-wait-wait-“

“Eh?”

“Isn’t that - unsanitary? You could give me, uh, ink poisoning or something?”

“Not from my ink.”

“How can you know that?”

“I just do.”

“That’s not an answer-“

“Look, creator, I gave ya the offer, take it or leave it!”

Another protest died at Henry’s tongue. He licked his lips. In a softer whisper, crouched closer to Bendy’s level, “lick my blood? That’s what you want?”

“Mhmm.”

“No tricks, no funny business?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“ _Why_?”

“I’m a demon, Henry, use yer imagination.”

Henry squinted. “Do you get my soul that way?”

“Jee-zus, creator, it’s nothin’ that serious! I just wanna taste your blood! Jumpin’ to all these conclusions…”

The whole idea made Henry uncomfortable as hell. Firstly, nobody had ever said anything good about dealing with demons. Secondly, it felt disgusting and wrong to do something like hurt himself, especially for Bendy to… to lick the wound. Finally, there was the whole matter about whether Bendy was actually real or not, which Henry’s brain had been racing in circles lately, analyzing every tiny thing, to try to gauge the answer. At this point he preferred that Bendy was real, because if he wasn’t, that insinuated things about Henry’s mental state that he wasn’t prepared to face. 

Henry ran his fingers through his hair. One week of peace. At the cost of doing something that was probably Satanic and definitely really screwed up.

“You okay, Henry?”

Henry flitted his gaze to the side. Wally was just coming out of Joey’s office, towing a large trash bag filled with glass pieces and soil. The poor freckled janitor’s brow was furrowed in concern.

“I’m fine, Wally.” Henry forced a smile. “Just stressed. You know how it is.”

“Sure do. The daily grind. Boy, though, it’s great to have you back.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks, yeah.” 

Wally went along his way, whistling, and Henry stared after him. He hadn’t actually really talked to Wally since being back, but they’d gotten along well enough before. Wally was one of the very few employees at Joey Drew Studios that had been there when Henry was three years ago. Henry just… didn’t actually think anyone cared that much that he had returned.

“Yoohoo,” Bendy prompted. “Down here. What’s your answer?”

“I… I’ll have to think about it.”

Bendy grabbed his thigh. His fingers were cold and crushing.

“Nah-ah. It’s already Monday. You decide now, or I ain’t gonna let you get a single cel done for the entire week. And what’s Joey gonna do then, when you got nothing to show except a bunch’a broken supplies?”

Henry gritted his teeth. “You're a fucking monster, you know that?”

“I like t’think I’m a _fuckin_ ’ monster.”

“God-“ He was impossible to deal with. “Fine. Fine! We’ll do your stupid - blood - thing. But not here.” God forbid anyone else see them. 

“I know just the place. Follow me.”

“That sounds kind of sinister, you know.”

“Me, sinister? Never!”

Henry scowled, but trailed behind Bendy as they wound through the administration offices. Henry kept his lips sealed as they passed office after office, with people tapping away at typewriters, or stacking papers, or arguing with each other.

“Where are you taking me?” Henry muttered through his teeth. He wasn’t even really supposed to be down here.

“Almost there!” Bendy sang. 

Soon enough they stopped in front of a closed door. _Thomas Connor_ , the plaque read. 

“Here we are!”

“What?”

“He’s out sick. We’ll have the place to ourselves. No interruptions.”

“I’m not going to Thomas’ office.” Henry cautiously looked down either side of the hallway, waiting for someone to round the corner and yell at him for being out of place. “And how do you even know he’s sick?"

A lock clicked. Henry jerked his gaze back. “Bendy!” He hissed. 

The demon smirked and pulled his tail out of the keyhole. “C’mon.” The door swung inwards and Bendy skipped into the darkness. “He-enry! Tick tock!”

Henry hesitated for a half a second more, then bolted into the room and shut the door before someone could see him. 

It was absolute darkness. “We shouldn't be in here,” Henry whispered. 

“You gotta admit it’s secure.”

“Can you open any door?”

“Just about!”

Something clicked and then a lamp on Thomas’ desk flared to life, burning a low, incandescent yellow. Blueprints and pens were scattered across his desk in a haphazard mess. An ash tray was overflowing with squashed cigarette butts. The small halo of light illuminated Bendy’s face with creepy, unrealistic shadows.

“Sit down,” Bendy urged.

Henry suddenly found himself much more reluctant. “How do you know Thomas is sick?” He said hesitantly, as if this would get him out of what Bendy wanted him to do.

“Don’t ya remember?” Bendy replied. “Wally said so just five minutes ago.”

“N-no, he didn’t-"

“Sure he did. Asked if ya felt off. Wanted t’know if ya had the same sickness as Thomas. Said Thomas had been out for days, remember?”

Henry shook his head. “I don’t - I - nevermind…” 

Bendy laughed softly. “You’re strange, creator. Real forgetful, arent’cha?”

“Let’s get this over with.” Henry sat heavily in Thomas’ chair. He touched his forearm. Through his bunched sleeve, he could feel the bandages from when Bendy had sliced him open. He would prefer to do the other arm, but Bendy had cut his left arm, and Henry was right handed. It would be better that Henry use his right hand to cut himself, which meant he’d have to cut into the same arm Bendy had already wounded. 

There was nothing for it. Henry tugged up his sleeve, and unwound the bandages. The previous cut was now shrinking, a delicate baby-pink color extending along the length of his forearm.

“Here.” Bendy thumped a bottle of rubbing alcohol on the desk. “For when ya wanna disinfect.”

“Where did you get that?”

“From the infirmary. We got it together, creator, don’t ya remember that?”

“Um.” Henry felt dizzy, disoriented. 

Bendy tsked. He circled around Henry and positioned himself between Henry’s knees. The chill of his body, even without touching Henry, still managed to seep through Henry’s clothes and sting his thighs and knees. 

Henry shuddered. Get this over with. That was all. He brushed a thick thumb over the previous wound. He’d put the new one next to it. _Smaller_ this time, Christ. He didn’t need another trip to the infirmary. “This feels fucking weird. We shouldn't be in Thomas’ office.”

“Way to be a broken record, Henry. The venue ain’t changin’ unless you got something more romantic in mind.”

“ _Romantic_?”

“Well, it’s kinda intimate.” Bendy smiled up at him, fingers trailing along Henry’s thigh. 

“Stop that.”

Henry’s shaking fingers fumbled to withdraw his pocket knife. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

“Wait. Not that. You’re going to use my tail.”

In emphasis, the tip of Bendy’s tail slithered up Henry’s leg. The sharp spade’s tip curled over his thigh. Henry aggressively resisted the urge to shove it off. “That wasn’t part of the agreement.”

“It was an unspoken part.”

“Yeah, well, no unspoken parts. I’ll do what we agreed to and that’s it-“

“You’ll do it with my tail, or ya ain’t gettin’ the week.”

“No, I won’t-“

“Okay, th-“

“Fine.” Henry grabbed Bendy’s tail roughly and yanked. He regretted it, because Bendy’s tail was cold and strong in his hands like a snake sheathed in cold oil. Furthermore, the yank didn’t bother Bendy in the slightest - his tail simply extended to a suitable length to accommodate the pull, much as cartoon tails do.

“Oh, I like it when ya play rough.”

“Stop being gross.”

“I already got off sittin’ on ya twice, Henry. And now yer bothered ‘bout a lil sweet talkin’?”

Henry really didn’t want to think about that. Bendy had indeed sat in his lap twice now and did something approximately an orgasm while Henry was in the middle of the damn room trying to _work._ Which was wildly inappropriate and Henry didn’t want it at all, but it wasn’t like he could stop the damn demon without creating a whole ruckus that -

“C’mon,” Bendy whispered, half impatiently. “Cut yourself for me, Henry. Go slow. Lemme cherish it.”

Henry would’ve rolled his eyes if he wasn’t so freaked out. Bendy really wanted this. Craved it, if the look on his face was any indication. What was Henry _doing_?

He swallowed. Just get it over with.

He firmed his grip on the spade’s tip. This particular part of Bendy’s tail felt less like a snake, more like a flat bone or a blade. Henry was careful not to slice open his hand, then he brought the edge to his forearm, without quite touching. Here he hesitated. He’d never caused himself deliberate harm before.

“There you go,” Bendy said softly, leaning nearer. His tail was twitching. 

“Stop moving; it’s making it harder.”

“Nice ’n slow,” Bendy replied as if hadn’t heard, but he made some effort to still the excited twitching. 

Henry exhaled carefully. Okay. Just don’t think about it. Just… do. Without thinking. Do. 

The edge of Bendy’s tail managed to be both fluid and lethally sharp. It was unreal. When Henry pressed it to his flesh, an inch or so away from the first injury, it readily pierced through the skin. Henry froze, terrified by the image of the black push dagger-like spade tip nestled tightly between his split skin. It stung sharply.

“Deeper,” Bendy breathed. 

Very very easily it ate into his muscle. Henry seethed through his teeth. He dragged it an inch down the width of his forearm, leaving a thin deepred furrow. 

“There.” He yanked Bendy’s tail away. “There’s your stupid-“

Bendy’s gloved hands cradled Henry’s arm. His horned head dipped down and then - 

Henry winced when his forked tongue dragged along the wound. He licked all the blood trickling from it, and then began to wriggle his tongue into the wound with increasingly persistent laps. 

“S-stop, that’s enough-“

Bendy’s grip tightened, preventing Henry from jerking away. The demon was half-panting, flat teeth pressed to Henry’s forearm as he hungrily licked, each swipe of his tongue a fresh burning to Henry’s wounded flesh. 

“Stop it, Bendy!”

Henry jerked out of his chair, ripping away from Bendy’s clutches, and grasping his throbbing arm. With lidded eyes, Bendy licked his teeth and gazed up at Henry in a look not far from sultry, but nearer to sinister. 

“You taste nice, creator.”

“Did you get what you wanted?” Henry yelled.

Bendy nodded, smiling. 

“Great.” Henry stormed out of the room and slammed the door. 


	4. Chapter 4

Joey was Henry’s first visitor at the asylum. Henry wasn’t considered a violent patient, so he was allowed to meet with Joey in the cafeteria area. Patients shuffled past. Orderlies watched. Everything was a blistering sterile white. Henry still hadn’t gotten accustomed to the fact that, no matter what he was doing, he was always watched now - unless he was locked in his room, and that was not much better.

“How are you settling in?” Joey asked. 

Henry’s eyes roved across the room. In the corner, someone was sobbing controllably and scratching their own arms. Someone else was having an avid conversation with the invisible entity they were playing chess with. A third person had been walking in tight circles for a solid five minutes. “Honestly,” Henry admitted, “not well.”

Bendy snorted derisively. The demon was perched cross legged on the table, making different shapes with a rubber band between his fingers.

“It is _quite_ an environment,” Joey remarked. He was smiling, because Joey almost always smiled. 

“They have bars on my windows and a lock on my door,” Henry confessed.

“Standard procedure for all patients?”

Henry nodded.

“Horrible,” Joey said. 

“Yeah. And the food is disgusting. I can’t even leave the yard. This is like one big cage, Joey.” Henry ran his fingers through his hair. “And they’re always keeping an eye on me, like I’m a kid again. I can’t even tell you how demeaning it is. I’m a grown-ass adult, for god’s sakes.”

“Mhmm.”

Henry shook his head. “It’s weird, taking care of yourself for years, and then suddenly - you just have no power over your own life. We’re not even allowed silverware, Joey.”

“Hmm.”

“I don’t think this is a place where people get better,” Henry admitted. “Being treated like this could make someone go crazy.”

“Well,” Joey said, “Just keep in mind it’s for your own good.”

Henry blinked.

“Remember, you’re not in your right state of mind. You just never know, and it’s better to be safe than sorry!”

Henry’s jaw dropped. Joey actually felt these precautions were _necessary_? Christ, that stung. “How can you believe that?” Henry said hoarsely. “We’ve been friends for years - you know me! I don’t belong here!”

"Well, maybe I did at one time, Henry, but you can’t deny you’ve changed. You need help. It’s okay to admit that.”

Henry’s expression contorted. “You’re signing me off, just like that! You’re not even listening to me!”

“Okay!” Joey raised his hands up in a show of alarm, glancing towards the orderlies. “Just calm down there, Henry, I don’t want you to get too worked up!”

Jesus Christ. Now the orderlies were looking with more attention in their way, ready to intervene should Henry get violent. 

“Look,” Bendy said, holding out his rubber band creation. “I made the Eiffel tower.”

Gritting his teeth, Henry forced himself to sound calmer, “stop overreacting, Joey. I never even hurt anybody to begin with.”

“No, no, I don’t mean to imply that. I’m trying to look out for you, Henry. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself.”

Wow. 

“D’you like my Eiffel tower, Henry? Henry?” Bendy waggled the rubber band in front of Henry’s face. 

“I’m not going to hurt myself,” Henry gritted out. The numerous wounds on his arms, visible with his short-sleeved hospital-provided outfit, didn’t align with his words, but those injuries hadn’t been his fault, goddamnit. 

“You just never know.”

Fine. So that’s how it was going to be. Joey just saw him as some insane guy too insane to know it. Fine. It was aggravating to no end, but Henry was going to do his best not to escalate the situation. In fact, he needed to try hard to relax. He needed to make the best impression.

“You don’t like my Eiffel tower,” Bendy moaned, and ate the rubber band. “There just ain’t no impressin’ you, is there?”

“How’s the studio?” Henry asked dully, trying hard to sound normal and sane.

“Great! I’d hazard to say productivity and morale has never been higher. We’re really making it somewhere. Got all kinds of money coming in to support Bendyland. Now won’t that be amazing!”

"I think lyin' is just like breathin' to him," Bendy remarked thoughtfully. "Kinda disturbin' if ya think about it."

“Ah, great.”

“But of course, it’s just not the same without you, Henry.”

“Yeah. I wish I was back.”

“Oh, we all do,” Joey said, nodding. Smiling. “Nobody could do it like you, I’ll tell you that!”

“Thanks.”

“Of course. Once you’re all cured, you can come right back, Henry, no problem at all. Right back to work like nothing changed.”

Bendy reclined back on the table and wiggled his feet. “Ya know, Henry, he doesn’t think you can be cured. He thinks you’re here forever.”  


“Right back to work,” Henry echoed. He had to seem normal. That was the only way one could ever leave this place. Playing normal. And he _was_ normal, unlike everyone else here. Unlike Peter Turner, who was convinced the air vents were going to kill him. Unlike Alicia, who was too scared to leave her room without coaxing, and who spend her time curled up muttering under her breath. 

“He’s scared of ya,” Bendy remarked. “Yer th’only one he’s ever opened up to, creator. Told’ja stuff nobody else knows. Makes him scared-“

That was a weird thing to say.

“Henry?” Joey cut in, leaning over the table. “Henry, you with me?”

Henry jerked his head up, studying Joey’s modeled expression. _He’s scared of you._ “I’m here, sorry,” Henry said. “Just - spaced out.”

“Of course. Naturally. Say, Henry, how _are_ you doing? In the -“ Joey tapped his head, “department?”

“Um…”

“Go on,” Bendy said. “Tell him how yer doin,’ Henry. Tell him what we did last night.

“I’m… okay,” Henry answered slowly. “Um, better, I think.”

“Is that right?” Joey said, like he knew otherwise. “Not seeing Bendy anymore, hmm?”

“Not…” Henry hesitated. “Not at the moment.”

From the corner of his vision, he saw Bendy raise a look of amusement.

“No? Not at the moment?”

Henry shook his head. “No. Like I said, it’s getting better.”

Joey’s look was piercing. “But how,” he said softly, “can one really determine that?”

“…What?”

“You’re seeing a demon nobody else can see, Henry. Maybe that isn’t fixed so easily, hm?”

“I-I said I’m getting better-“

“Naturally. Yes. Of course you are.” He couldn't have made that sound more fake if he tried.

Henry narrowed his eyes, anger rising again. Did Joey just come here to belittle and aggravate him? 

Bendy whistled. “Can you believe that? Ouch, Henry! You’re not gettin’ that job back.”

“Shut up,” Henry snapped before he could stop it. 

Bendy put a hand to his mouth, feigning shock. 

“I’m sorry?” Joey’s brow furrowed. 

“Nothing!” Henry buried his face in his hands, consumed with despair. 

“Maybe ol’ Joey’s right,” Bendy interjected. “Maybe this ain’t fixed so easily. I mean, really, did ya think a buncha group therapy sessions are gonna make me go away? Did’ja think, if they cram enough pills into ya, you’d be able to stride right outta here and leave me behind?” Bendy cackled. “All I’m sayin’ is that your buddy here might not to be wrong this time. Maybe yer here forever.”

“-distressing,” Joey was saying, “then I dearly apologize, Henry, I didn’t mean to-“

“I’m fine.’ Henry forced his hands onto the table, clasped tightly, and forced his own rictus smile. “I’m fine, Joey. I’m sorry.”

“Ya don’t sound convincing, Henry. I think ya need to loosen up.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Joey waved his hand, but he looked awkward. 

God, this was a disaster. Henry was furious at himself, furious at Bendy, furious at Joey. Hell, he was furious at everything. 

Bendy slid off the table and onto the bench beside Henry. “I can help you,” Bendy cooed. “Take all that stress away-“ His fingers dragged along Henry’s thigh. 

“Okay!” Henry yelped like a punch as he leapt out of his chair probably much too fast to be normal, wriggling away from Bendy’s clutches.

Bendy cackled, while Joey stared.

“Um,” Henry scratched at the wounds on his arms self-consciously. “Um, there was a fly.”

“Of course.”

Henry was getting tired of hearing those two words together. 

There was an awkward silence.

“Weeell,” Joey cleared his throat. “I had better be getting back to the studio now, Henry. Those people don’t manage themselves!”

Henry coughed. “Yeah um, tell everyone I said hi.”

“Absolutely, Henry, absolutely.”

It was simultaneously depressing and a relief to see Joey go. On one hand, he was the only connection Henry had left to his previous life. Henry wished he had made a better, more sane impression. He wanted Joey to stay, to give Henry a chance to prove that was ready to go back to the studio. On the other hand… at least now things couldn't get any _worse._

“You’re not helping me in the slightest,” Henry hissed at Bendy. 

Bendy grasped his thigh and peered up, blinking innocently. “I don’t know what ya mean, creator. I’m just trying to help you relax.”

“Do you want to be stuck here too?” Henry growled, scratching his forearm in his ire. It was always so _itchy._

Bendy looked around. “I don’t mind it so much.”

“Well, I _do_.”

Henry swore, realizing he’d torn up scabs. _Again_. Already an orderly was rushing his way. 

Next visit, he promised himself. Next visit he’d show he was ready to return to work and leave this hospital forever. 


End file.
